


Keep Talking

by Lothiriel84



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Drug Use, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was woken from a dreamless slumber by the shrill ringing of his phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 3x03. Written for the telephone challenge on fan flashworks. The title is a reference to the namesake song by Pink Floyd.

He was woken from a dreamless slumber by the shrill ringing of his phone; he wasn't pleased at all when his eyes focused on the caller ID.  
  
"What have you done this time?" he asked in resignation as soon as he picked up.  
  
"Always so cheerful, brother mine."  
  
"It's two in the morning, in case you've failed to notice. What do you want?"  
  
"Maybe I just miss you."  
  
"No, you don't," he all but scoffed at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea.  
  
"Alright, I don't."  
  
"And don't tell me you're suffering from insomnia, because you rarely sleep anyway."  
  
"Sleeping is boring."  
  
"Meaning that you're bored witless now. Don't you have anybody else to bother?"  
  
"Can't ring John because I'd wake the baby. Lestrade and Molly have turned off their phones, and Mrs Hudson has taken to sleeping with her earplugs."  
  
"I wonder why."  
  
"Oh, kindly shut up."  
  
"I'd be glad to ring off as well."  
  
There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Mycroft."  
  
This was the closest to begging his brother ever came, and he could recognize a call for help when he heard one. Addiction was rearing its ugly head again.  
  
"Do you need me to come over there?"  
  
"No, just – keep talking."  
  
"Okay. What do you want to talk about?"  
  
"I don't know. You."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you. You always bullied me when I was a child. Did you really hate me so much?"  
  
A pained expression crossed his features. "I never hated you, Sherlock."  
  
"You called me stupid all the time."  
  
"We've already been over this. You seemed so slow to me, I thought you were just lazy."  
  
"I wasn't. I could never measure up to your expectations, no matter how hard I tried."  
  
"That was a miscalculation on my part. I do apologize."  
  
A muffled chuckle reached his ear. "You, apologize? You're softening, brother dear."  
  
"Middle age, I suppose."  
  
"You're getting old. And fat."  
  
"That I'm not."  
  
"Last time I called you, you were working out."  
  
"I am led to believe that is not a crime."  
  
Another pause of silence. "How do you manage to turn them off?"  
  
"Turn off what?"  
  
"The voices in your head. Too much noise, I just can't –"  
  
"You always hear them, Sherlock. But you learn to shut them out in time."  
  
"I never really hated you either, you know."  
  
"I know. Go try and have some sleep now."  
  
"Need a cigarette first."  
  
"Enjoy it for me, will you?"  
  
He stared at his phone for a long while after his brother disconnected the call. Then he just sank back against the pillow and allowed himself to slip back into Morpheus' welcoming arms.


End file.
